


Anyone Can Be FBI These Days

by waywardavengers (herax97)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 66 Seals (Supernatural), AU, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angel Castiel, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Blood and Gore, Clintasha - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Eventual Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eventual Romance, F/M, M/M, Romance, Sarcastic Dean, Tony Being Tony, supervengers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-20 20:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herax97/pseuds/waywardavengers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious murder at Stark Industries catches the Winchester's attention, drawing them to New York and more importantly, to Tony Stark, but they soon find out that a few civilian deaths are only the start of something greater. Someone is out for blood and they're targeting Earth's Mightiest Heroes. The results could be a catastrophe on an apocalyptic scale and who better to deal with the end of the world than Team Free Will? Again...</p><p>Sass, sarcasm, romance, superheroes, angels and an impending apocalypse. Hook, line and sinker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Watch It, Granny

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Alright, so this happened. Yes, I'm starting yet another story. Yes, I'm aware I'm a sucky updater. If I manage to write more to this, it will be multi-chaptered. I haven't decided on pairing yet since the timeline of it is still uncertain but I might just throw in some Destiel and maybe possibly some Frostiron, depending on the plot of everything. So basically, this is post-Avengers and as for where it stands during Supernatural, it's somewhere during mid season 6, after Sam got his sould back. I'll probably throw in a few characters from both sides but of course that's all assuming I continue. Take notice that content below is my first try at writing Sam and Dean so don't expect greatness. Okay, rant over.
> 
> Edit: The summary has been changed due to a swerve in the plot. Also no frostiron, probably. Sorry. Carry on...

Stark Expo. Previously, Stark Industries' excuse to throw a kick ass party while showcasing the newest batch of weapons. Now, Tony Stark's excuse to throw a kick ass party while showcasing his newest suit. And, of course, to hire the Iron Man dancing girls.

To Dean Winchester, the whole prospect of it was bucket loads of geeky, which of course meant that his brother was practically foaming at the mouth to go check it out. Which led to a newspaper being practically shoved in Dean's face when Sam slammed the door of the Impala shut, twisting around to throw a white, plastic bag into the backseat. The bottles inside clanged when it landed on the floor and the rustle of chip bags was audible. "Check it out."

Dean spared a scathing glare in Sam's direction but still snapped the paper to make it stand straight. The headline stared back in big, bold letters and his brow furrowed as he read it over. "What the hell is a Stark?"

"Not what; who," Sam explained with enthusiasm as he snatched the paper away, flipping a few pages into it. "There. Look." 

Dean begrudgingly leaned closer to see what was being pointed at. ""A Stark Industries staff member killed in a tragic accident a day before the Expo. Coroner reveals it to be an electric shock of some sorts." Apparently, the guy just... blew up," Sam recapped, turning his head to check for a reaction.

Dean pulled the paper back, green eyes scanning the article before he folded the newspaper and tossed it into the back seat. "Where'd you say this was again?" he questioned, brow furrowed. Sam was looking pretty damn pleased with himself. 

"An industry skyscraper in New York. No one came in or out of the building, according to security."

"So the guy decorates the inside of an office with his guts and no one finds it suspicious."

"Guess they don't think it's worth the trouble to worry over," the younger of the two suggested, grinning widely.

"Man, these cops are getting dumber by the day," Dean breathed, shaking his head as he pushed down the parking break. 

"So, New York then?" Sam asked hopefully. "We'll get to check out the Expo, right? Dean?"

Dean didn't spare a glance at his brother, instead pushing in the cassette lodged in the player. The car rumbled as it started and fingers tapped the wheel in beat to the blaring music as the car turned towards the parking lot exit, leaving the gas station behind.

…...

Tony Stark rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation, already feeling a headache forming. Of course this had to happen today, of all days. And of course, 'Death at Stark Industries' seemed to be a catchy front page headline. Fuck timing.

Pepper was suddenly back, holding a cup of coffee and Tony accepted it graciously. His office had been swarmed with police officers, nervous employees and journalists from the moment he stepped inside this morning and it seemed he was finally, finally, going to get a breather. He hated how he was never right about these things.

Pepper had barely been out the door when her head popped back in, looking almost apologetic. "There are two men from the FBI here to see you," she informed him, causing a confused look to appear on the billionaire's face. Since when did the FBI get involved in anything like this?

"Just let them in," he sighed, gulping down a bit more coffee before tossing the cup into the trashcan. Pepper nodded and the door opened fully, revealing two guys that barely looked old enough to be working as feds. One was comically larger than the other, sporting a grand head of hair and a fading bruise on his face. The shorter one simply looked like he'd stepped out of a male modeling magazine. Definitely not your average feds.

"Hi, Mister Stark? Agents Stiles and Murdoch, FBI," the taller spoke up. Two badges were flipped out but Tony was barely paying attention, his mind trying to figure out why those names sounded so familiar. Wasn't there an old show a few decades back...

"Right. Remind me, why is the FBI involved again?" Tony pushed as he reluctantly got up from his chair. The two men were closing the door behind them and it looked like a few hushed words were exchanged, the shorter of the two looking like he was scolding the other, before they turned back to face him. "I'm no expert when it comes to matters of the police but I thought you guys had something better to do than study strange animal attacks."

"Slow day at the office?" the shorter offered, grinning at his own... what was that, an attempt at a joke? They really did let anyone in these days. The glee died when he turned to look at his partner's stoic face and Gigantor cleared his throat before he spoke, his forehead wrinkled up into a look of 'I'm sorry for disturbing you.' 

"Right. Well, if you don't mind, we'd just like to ask you a couple of questions?"

Tony sighed, settling back into his chair. "I don't see what you'll gain from it, but shoot."

The one with the shorter hair quickly grabbed the single chair, glancing up to his partner with an almost smug look. The giant didn't look pleased. Tony cleared his throat to get their attention. The one standing quickly looked up, stepping away from his partner to glance around the office. "Mister Stark-"

"Please, call me Tony."

The large one paused momentarily before he continued speaking and scanning the large office. "Right. So, Tony, have you noticed anything strange recently?"

"Kid, read the news. I'm Iron Man. You're going to have to be specific."

"Cold spots, flickering lights," the other agent interrupted, green eyes trying to stare the billionaire down. Probably because of the kid comment. But then, Tony's eyebrows furrowed. Flickering lights? Was he being serious? "You wouldn't happen to know what sulfur smells like?"

The billionaire blinked once. "Sulfur? Look, I don't have time for this crap," Tony told them in exasperation, reaching out a hand. "Let me see those badges again." The taller one whipped out his, handing it over to Tony. The genius turned it in his hand, checking the name -Stiles- fingernail tapping at the badge. He glanced up at the pair of waiting eyes and sighed. Looked real enough. Maybe they were the black sheep of the bunch, sent out on crap missions.

"No, I haven't felt any cold spots, X-Files." The badge was tossed back to it's owner, who struggled to get a grip on it after the purposely crappy toss. The other one looked slightly amused by his partner's clumsiness. "Look, are we almost done here? I have a shitload of work to get to," Tony tried, gesturing towards his desk.

"Yeah, I can see that," the one not called Stiles -Murdine? Hardoch?- remarked sarcastically as he gestured with his chin to the bottle of scotch standing next to the stack of paperwork. 

Tony shrugged nonchalantly. "Signing papers makes me thirsty." 

The guy -Murdoch, that's it- grinned before his face went business-like again. "So nothing out of the ordinary, then?"

"You mean not counting the dead body that traumatized the cleaners? Nope. Everything's just splendid. Will that be all or do you want me to open up my desk drawers so you can rummage through those too?" Agent Stiles froze where he was running through a stack of papers lying on the shelf. 

"No, this should do just fine, Mister Stark. Thank you for your assistance."

"Assistance? We have squat," Murdoch mumbled under his breath as he stood up to join his partner. 

Stark leaned back in his chair. "I'm sorry," he remarked sarcastically. "You'll be the first to know if my electric system goes downhill, which I doubt. First tower to have self sustaining, clean energy."

Tony raised a challenging eyebrow, causing the male model one to mumble something unintelligent under his breath. "What was that?"

"I said, there's no need to be a dick about it," Murdoch spoke up, turning around. The other agent sighed quietly, as if he was used to these outbursts. 

"Oh, quite the contrary. There's always a need to be a dick about it if I'm being asked about sulfur. You guys are ridiculous," Tony continued with a short chuckle, shaking his head.

"We're just trying to help, you selfish-" The agent was cut off from saying more by his partner tugging at the sleeve of his jacket, shooting him a warning look. Tony watched with amusement. 

"Ooh, partner's got you an a leash, huh? Is there something going on there?" He pointed between the two of them, causing both eyes to narrow. "A little messing around with the co-workers?"

Green eyes blazed as they aimed a heated glare in Stark's direction. He simply folded his hands, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"The door's right there. Careful not to hit your head on the way out," the billionaire added with a pointed look towards the huge one.

"Hey! No one makes fun of my br- partner, except for me," Murdoch cut in defensively. 

Tony raised an eyebrow at the finger pointed his way, giving the two agents an unimpressed look. "Sure thing, Buttercup."

Oh, this guy was rich to poke at. His jaw was clenched tightly and he looked as if he wanted to launch over the desk and strangle him. Of course, the guy with the 'way too long to be manly' hair grabbed him again, raising his eyebrows as he tried to tug his partner away. "Let's just go, Murdoch. He's no help."

"Yeah, Murdoch. Go find something to shoot at."

"Oh, I'll find something to shoot at, alright," the shorter one grumbled under his breath before he was being tugged towards the door. "Thank you for your time," he remarked sarcastically and Tony gave him a mock salute.

"Self obsessed, piece of-" The door closed and Tony smirked, finishing the last of the scotch. At least he got a bit of fun out of the endless and annoying interrogations. After a second's thought, he poured more into the glass, glancing down at the papers that needed to be signed. Why couldn't the paperwork have fallen on Pepper?

…...

"I hope whatever we're hunting rips his vocal cords out," Dean grumbled under his breath as they walked out of the building, Sam taking long strides to keep up with his brother's angry steps. 

"Dude, relax. Stark wasn't that bad. Judging by some of the reactions people tend to give us, I'd say he was polite."

Dean scoffed. "Go ahead and protect your boyfriend, Sammy. Just do it in your own time. We have a job to finish here." 

Sam rolled his eyes, nodding to the security guard manning the doors. They stepped out into the busy streets of New York, Sam running a hand through his hair as people rushed by. Dean was still right. That chat had been no help at all, although meeting Tony Stark had been pretty damn cool.

"What's next?"

"Well, since our corpse was turned into human stew, that's a dead end. We need to get a clue of what we're trying to gank, here," Dean replied, stepping away as an angry looking business man threatened to stomp them down in an attempt to get past. 

"Research?" Sam offered.

The older frowned. "God, I hate that word."

Sam let out a short chuckle. "Alright, you should check for any violent deaths in the guy's family or in this building. The EMF meter might have been picking up something but Stark distracted me before I could get a better reading. I'll go back in to check it out-"

"Woah, woah, slow down there. Why do I have to go hole up in the history of splatter man?" Dean protested, foreseeing the hours of research ahead and pushing down a groan. "How 'bout I go in and do the fun stuff while you go look through dusty files?" The older nodded with enthusiasm, eyebrows raised in an attempt at 'you know you want to.'

Sam sniffed, fixing his brother with a 'nice try' look. "How 'bout no," he shot back, lips tugging into a smile.

"Fine," the older agreed begrudgingly, furiously digging out his car keys and the receipt for the parking garage. "You call me if you find anything," Dean ordered, eyebrows raised as he pointed an accusing finger at his brother. The keys dangled in his hand and the ticket fluttered in the wind. 

"Of course," Sam answered earnestly, followed by a short chuckle at his brother's displeasure with this arrangement.

Dean nodded, one more dirty look getting thrown over his shoulder as he started walking down the street. Sam just heard the offended "watch it, granny!" being shouted in a familiar voice before he pushed through the revolving doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so Tony's a dick. I hope I did every character justice and hopefully this was interesting to read. I'll probably cross-post this to AO3 as well. Don't forget to review, letting me know whether I failed utterly or just a tiny bit.


	2. I Don't Like Being Handed Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I actually got feedback for this and you guys don't know how happy that makes me! Thanks for all the kudos, guys! Sorry for the long wait but it's a long chapter so I hope it makes up for it.

Pause. Rewind. Play. Splatter. Sam squeezed his eyes shut. This had to be slowly making him mentally insane. As if to prove it, his phone started vibrating against his thigh and he jumped, the chair rattling with him. The hunter shook his head at himself before flipping open the phone. “Hey, Dean.”

“Sammy, I swear to god, I am never walking into a public library again. I'm coughing dust, my nose is filled with... with old people smell and my butt's so numb I can't feel it.”

“Dude, keep it on a need to know basis.” Sam sighed, switching the phone to his other ear, holding a pen ready over a blank piece of paper. “What've you got?”

“Besides from dead ass cheeks, I have diddly squat. The guy probably has the healthiest family in the history of ever. His great great grandmother is still alive and every dead relative passed away peacefully in their beds at an old age. Plus, there have been no violent deaths or suicides in this town or his home town. I'm telling you, man, if this is a ghost, it wasn't haunting splatter guy.” Dean's voice had grown increasingly more irritated with every statement he counted and Sam let out a sigh through his nose, the pen dropping to the metal desk.

“Please tell me you found something we can work with. I just wanna find a nice hotel where I can shower cause I smell like a freaking book.”

Sam's eyes moved back to the freeze frame of the former Stark Industries employee and with a deep breath, he starts. “So as they guy's leaving his office, he suddenly freezes. Looks a bit like he's convulsing or something. Almost like an electric shock.”

“And? Do you see the ghost? Is it even a ghost?” Dean pushed and Sam could hear the whine of a car horn blaring from the other side of the line. 

“I don't know, the footage gets all scrambled. And then suddenly, he just splatters. The EMF was definitely picking up something but it wasn't much. Look, just go book a hotel and I can meet you there in...” Sam trailed of as he heard an almost scratching sound coming from outside the door. 

“I'll call you back,” he murmured into the phone, hanging up and successfully cutting off Dean's angry 'Sam, don't you dare hang up on me!'

There was a low thud and Sam quickly picked up his gun from where it was resting on the table. He took slow, steady steps towards the door, gun poised to shoot, his finger on the trigger. The shuffling outside stopped but the hunter continued, one hand carefully reaching out for the door handle. Three, two, one...

The door flew open and Sam was briefly met with a very shocked Tony Stark. The billionaire was quick to redeem himself, cocking an eyebrow at the gun pointing between his eyes. “If this is about me poking at your height then I promise it won't happen again,” the shorter of the two remarked dryly and Sam let out a deep breath before quickly lowering the gun. It got tucked back into the safety of his waistband and he flips the suit jacket back over it. 

“What are you doing out here?” he questioned, eyes flitting down the hallway, just in case. 

“Not that I have to explain myself to you since this is my building, but I was returning papers and dropped my keys.” Stark sighed and held up a pair of keys that jingled. “Satisfied. Look, agent...”

“Stiles,” Sam provided his alias and Tony looked like he couldn't give less crap about his name. 

“Right. Look, they're closing up the building for the night so it's time for you to skedaddle.” Sam's eyes closed in exasperation. He still hadn't gotten to grill the security guards and he was being thrown out. 

“Okay? Okay, let's go, big guy.” 

Sam could hardly protest as Tony snapped his fingers and every light in the room behind the hunter shut down, along with the screens. His mouth opened and closed as his brain scrambled to complain but he realized that nothing he said would make a difference to the man in front of him, sauntering towards the elevators. He could pull a gun on him but he doubted that would actually get him anywhere.

So he trailed behind, looking like a kicked puppy, ignoring the vibrating phone in his pocket. He couldn't very well pick up now and start rambling about EMF and spirits in front of Stark. Tony nodded to the security guard who in turn nodded to Sam and the two men -one tall and one short- stepped into the elevator. “I'll be down in a few minutes, Mister Stark,” the security guard noted just as the doors closed. 

The elevators were eerily quiet. The normally awkward music that seemed to play in every elevator ever designed was missing and Sam wasn't sure if that made things better. He shifted on his legs as the elevator started moving, beginning it's long descend. Both men stared straight forward, the only sound being the dull vibration of Sam's phone and the slight jingle of Tony's keys when he shifted.

And then, the elevator jarred to a halt, causing Sam with his way higher point of balance to almost trip face first into the metal doors. “What the hell?” he could hear Tony mutter under his breath just before the light started flickering. Oh, crap. 

“Oh, crap.” Sam's words were followed by a cloud of warm air, visible in the suddenly chilling space.

“What the fuck is happening?” Tony was growling as he repeatedly jammed his fingers at one button after another. Sam started to back up, pulling out his practically useless gun while his eyes shot around the small space. “What are you- there's plenty of space on that side of the elevator!” Stark protested when Sam's back was practically squished against the other man. The hunter simply shushed and Tony huffed. Thankfully, he kept quiet.

The lights flickered once more before going out and the space was engulfed in darkness. “Just stay behind me,” Sam ordered, earning a scoff from the billionaire. Numb fingers held the gun tightly and he could feel Tony shuffling behind him. 

“What's going-”

Sam shushed him and could almost feel Stark's eyes roll. “This is ridiculous,” Tony murmured under his breath and the hunter could feel him moving. 

“What are you doing, Stark?”

Instead of answering, the small space was suddenly illuminated in an eerie, blue glow from the billionaire's high tech cellphone. Which, in turn, allowed them to see the unwanted visitor standing on the other side of the elevator. 

The man was covered in burn marks, bad ones, blood dripping from his hands onto the floor. He looked like the aftermath of an explosion, which, Sam guessed, was probably the cause of death. So now he knew it was a vengeful spirit they were after. He just would have preferred not finding out by being locked in an elevator with said spirit 40 floors up. 

“Stane?”

Sam's eyebrows furrowed when Tony spoke up, his voice no more than a hoarse whisper. The spirit flickered as it growled. It flickered once more before appearing a few inches away from Sam. The gun flew across the elevator, the hunter following suit as he was tossed into the wall. 

Tony was standing rigid in the corner, staring wide eyed at the ghost. The light coming from the phone now on the floor dimmed as Sam scrambled to get up. Slowly but surely, one bloody and scorched hand started reaching out for Stark.

Sam looked around frantically before he glanced down at the pole attached to the wall, the one he'd used to haul himself up. “Please be iron,” he muttered hopefully, placing both hands on the pole. Thankful, the foundation it was screwed into was soft and Sam continued to desperately pull, bracing one leg against the wall. He briefly glanced over his shoulder, seeing the spirit's mouth -or what was left of it- twist into a smirk. 

One more tug and the pole was torn from the wall, causing Sam to stumble a few steps back. It took him but a second to regain his balance before he swung around, slicing through the spirit with the pole. It dissolved just as the light from the phone went out completely. Seconds later, a red overhead light flickered on, probably the emergency one.

Still keeping a tight grip on the pole, Sam moved over to the other man. “Hey, you okay?” He placed one hand on Stark's shoulder, shaking him lightly. “You with me?”

Tony's blank stare seemed to fade and he shook his head, nodding. “Good. Now, hold this,” Sam ordered as he shoved the pole into Stark's hands. Instead of catching it, it fell to the floor with a clang. 

“I don't like to be handed things,” Tony said simply, his voice eerily monotone. 

The hunter stared at him for moment before snapping out of it. “Fine. Whatever. Just... pick it up and stay on guard.”

Stark did as he was told and Sam glanced around the small elevator. He finally looked up, spotting the small hatch. He jumped, pushing at the hatch. It slammed open, revealing the darkness above and the cables holding up the elevator. 

“Come on,” Sam urged, gesturing for Tony to step over. The gesture seemed to snap the billionaire out of his 'you look like you just saw a ghost' attitude and right back into his usual one.

“We're going up there?” he questioned skeptically and Sam nodded. 

“Come on. Unless you want whoever that was to come back, we gotta get out of here.”

That seemed to register with Tony, who quickly walked over. Sam crouched down, folding his hands before nodding at Stark. 

“This is the strangest day of my life,” he muttered before placing one foot into the other's hands. He was hoisted up and through the box shaped opening, barely getting a grip on the top. 

Sam waited, watching as the other man scrambled to pull himself up, legs flailing as they tried to find something to push at. “Need some help?”

“I got it, thanks,” was the snippy reply and Sam just shrugged. Stark finally managed to pull himself up and the hunter tilted his head upwards. Tony was standing with some uncertainty on top of the elevator and once he saw the other man staring up at him, he huffed. “Are you coming or not?”

“Relax, I'm working on it.” Sam moved over to the control panel, pulling out the stop switch before grabbing the pole Tony had dropped before climbing out and his gun. He threw both up for the other man to catch, watching him scramble to get a grip on first the gun and then the pole. It took two jumps but he finally managed to get his arms far enough out for a good grip. 

With some effort, he pulled himself up, Tony watching with complete disinterest. It confused Sam how this was still the same guy that had looked so terrified before but he decided not to dwell on it. For now, he just needed to get them both out before they ended up like splatter guy.

He carefully pushed Tony out of the way, stepping up to the closed doors about five feet above them. Sam tried prying them open with his hands, cursing under his breath when it failed. “Hand me your keys,” he ordered with an outstretched hand, thankful when he wasn't met with objections. The key chain was dropped into his hand and with some maneuvering, the doors were pushed open just a crack. 

He handed Tony back the keys, grabbing the pole instead. Sam pushed it through the small gap before pulling at the pole. The doors were slowly but surely pried open and as soon as the gap was big enough for a person, he ushered the billionaire over. Tony refused the boost up, instead choosing to scramble up on his own. Before Sam could follow, the horror from before was back on Stark's face.

Sam swiveled around, spotting the spirit immediately. Before he could swing at it with the pole, it vanished. Not completely, however, because through the hatch, Sam could see the spirit pushing the stop switch back in. “Move,” he shouted at Tony, practically lunging up and through the open doors. Just as his arms hit the ground, the elevator dropped. 

The cables whirred as the small box hurtled down. Sam paid it no mind as he scrambled to get in, gratefully accepting Stark's offered hand. As soon as he got through the doors, he pushed himself up to stand. “We need to get you and everyone else out of here. Is there anyone else in the building?” Sam asked urgently and Tony quickly shook his head. 

“No one except security on the bottom floor.”

The hunter nodded, picking up the iron pole. “Stay close and keep your eyes open. Where's the staircase?”

Tony started leading the way with Sam trailing close behind, pole at the ready. The stopped at the door labeled 'stairs' and Sam pulled it open. The spirit was standing there, looking even worse in the fully lit stairwell. Welts covered his face and the skin visible through the torn clothes. The hunter quickly swung at him, quickly continuing and dragging behind him a shocked Tony Stark. 

About ten floors down, the spirit was waiting again. It stood on the landing below the one the two men were standing on. The bloody man flickered before reappearing right in front of Sam, who was ready and sliced through it with the pole.

“Hurry,” he urged and the two of them continued to run down the stairs. They finally reached the final floor, out of breath and their hearts racing. They pushed through the door and turned down a hallway, stepping into the lobby of the building. 

“Find your security guards, tell them to get home. Now.”

Tony nodded, running for the front desk. He stopped a few feet away before looking over his shoulder at Sam. The taller of the two ran up, stopping behind Stark. The front desk and the wall behind it were covered in blood, pieces of clothes and even a few miscellaneous body parts visible. 

“Let's go,” Sam ordered, grabbing Tony's upper arm and practically dragging him towards the doors. About ten feet away from the door, they came to a screeching halt. On the large glass doors, written in blood, were the words 'you killed me.'

Stark's jaw was clenched and Sam glanced over at him before continuing to drag the other man out. As soon as they stepped out the doors into the cold New York night, the spirit appeared at the front desk. Half scorched eyes seemed to stare straight at the billionaire and Sam shook Tony's shoulder to get his attention. “Lock the building. I'll take you somewhere safe and from there, you call off each and everyone of your employees.”

Tony nodded and Sam let out a sigh of relief. He brushed a hand through his sweaty hair before reaching into his pocket for his phone while Stark locked up with hands obviously trying to hide how bad they were shaking. When he pulled it up, he let out a groan. The screen was cracked and his attempt to turn it on failed. “It must've gotten busted when I got tossed in the elevator.”

“Here.” Sam glanced up at Tony, who was holding out a phone. 

“Wait, didn't you leave your phone-”

“In the elevator? I have a few.” He pushed forward the phone and Sam accepted it, raising an eyebrow at Tony. “I'm a busy guy. Do you know what happens if there's no way to reach me? Well, for starters I'd get a little peace but everything would practically go to shit.”

Sam just nodded, dialing Dean's number. It rang a few times before he heard Dean's wary voice. “Who's this?”

“Hey, Dean, it's Sam.” 

“Sam! What the hell happened? I've been calling your phone non-stop and it just kept going to voicemail.”

“I'm fine. Look, I have Stark. Come pick us up. He has some explaining to do.” Sam glanced over at Tony who stared back defiantly. 

“Yeah, okay. Stay put, I'll be there in ten.”

Dean hung up and Sam dialed 911, keeping a close eye on Stark while he gave the cops the non-supernatural explanation of what had happened. They officer said his goodbye to agent Stiles and Sam hung up.

Tony was standing casually a few feet away, hands stuffed into the pockets of his suit pants. When the taller of the two approached, Stark cocked an eyebrow. “Sam? Dean? Why agent, I do believe your badge has the wrong information. Or maybe, just maybe, you guys aren't feds. I don't think I'm the only one that has some explaining to do.”

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the sarcasm lacing Tony's words. This guy was unbelievable. One second you could read the horror in his eyes and the next he was back to his normal, cocky self. “The ghost, you recognized him,” Sam stated, crossing his arms over his chest. Ah, there was the terror again.

“You called him Stane. Who was he?”

Stark's jaw clenched and he turned his head to the side in a very dismissive manner. “You know you're going to have to tell us sooner or later or else more people are going to die. You saw what happened to those security guards,” Sam pushed, his eyes narrowing slightly. 

“I knew them. Both of them,” Tony said instead of answering the question. “One of them had kids.”

Sam's face softened and he cocked his head slightly. Well, this was new. The billionaire looked... vulnerable. “And now they're dead. Now, a couple of kids don't have a father and it's all because of me.”

The hunter was slightly taken aback. “Woah, hey. You didn't kill them. You can't blame yourself. It's not your fault.”

Tony scoffed. “Of course it's my fault. Obadiah took their lives because he couldn't take mine.” His head was still turned, jaw clenched so tight Sam was surprised his teeth weren't turning into dust. 

“Whatever happened wasn't your fault, Stark. You save people, you're a hero. But you can't save everyone. Trust me, I know.”

Tony didn't answer and Sam sighed, figuring he should just back off. At least he had a name. Obadiah Stane. Why did it sound so familiar...

“Sammy.”

Sam turned his head, immediately feeling relieved when he saw his brother's head poking out the window of the impala. “Let's go.”

Tony was moving for the car before Sam had even turned to him, settling into the backseat. “'67 Chevrolet Impala. Nice car. But don't you think it's a bit... old?” Tony noted. 

Sam chuckled under his breath as he ducked into the car, noticing the way Dean tensed slightly. “Don't listen to him, baby. He's the old one,” the older brother muttered under his breath, patting the wheel endearingly. 

“Hey, we done talking to inanimate objects? Gigantor said something about a safe place and I can't wait to get the hell away from here.” Dean turned in his seat, glaring at the smug looking billionare. 

“First, don't talk about her like that. And secondly, I'm the only that gets to make fun of Sammy's height. Capishe?” 

Tony raised his eyebrows before shaking his head. “Sure thing, kiddo. Let's just drive so I can get out of this car.” Dean muttered something that sounded like an impressive string of curse words and Sam just shook his head as he smiled and allowed himself to relax into the familiar passenger seat of the impala.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: And Obadiah's the ghost. Kudos if you had that figured out. I'm lazy and never bother to proofread so if there's anything strange then let me know or just ignore it. I know I do. So I started writing this story on a bit of a whim but I think I have a semi-plot in mind for it and might even include . I've also decided that this is post-Avengers and the SPN timeline is sometime during mid-season 6, after Sam got his soul back.


	3. Just Keep It Clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dadarara, new chapter time! Happy Belated New Year, guys! As expected of me, this took forever. And it's not that long. Or eventful. And I suck. Right! Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Dean was seething. He was sure that his baby would be forever scarred just from Tony Stark occupying her backseat. Every time the guy opened his mouth, Dean had to resist pulling over to punch the smug bastard. Maybe he'd get wounded badly enough so that he'd shave that stupid looking goatee off because honestly, it was a crime against humanity. Thankfully, his mood lightened slightly when he pulled into the parking lot of a burger place he'd spotted signs for a minute ago. When Sam turned to him with quizzical eyes, he pointed an accusing finger at his brother's face. 

“I deserve this. Four hours of research, Sammy. Four!” He made his point clearer by holding the sleeve of his jacket under Sam's nose, who quickly attempted to slap his arm away. “Smell that? That's the smell of the old lady that was practically harassing me the whole time. That's the kind of smell that never washes out. Ever!”

Sam scoffed, finally shoving away the arm in his face. “And I got thrown across an elevator before almost falling to my death,” he countered. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, boo hoo. Don't be such a baby about it. There's barely a scratch on you.” The younger brother gaped, fully ready to shove his already bruising arms into the other's face when Tony cleared his throat. 

“I vote cheeseburgers,” he said simply, a triumphant grin lighting up Dean's face when he turned back to Sam. 

“And cheeseburgers it is.” Laughing victoriously to himself, he stepped out of the car, closing it and cutting off Sam's whiny protesting. 

Once they'd settled into a booth, Dean still grinning at his brother's frowning, Tony spoke up. “So, Sammy, you said something about an explanation.” 

Sam turned his displeased face from Dean, who was sitting at his side, to Stark, seated on the other side of the table. “Don't call me Sammy. Sammy is-”

“A chubby twelve year old. Let it go already,” Dean cut in before fixing the older man with a stare. “But seriously, don't call him Sammy. Only I get to do that.”

“Okay,” Stark replied monotonously, already tuned out of the conversation, eyes fixed on his phone. Dean rolled his eyes and sighed in irritation before turning to Sam, starting to grill him about the details of what had happened back at Stark Industries. Just as Sam got to the part about the words written in blood, Stark spoke up, completely unfazed that he was interrupting their conversation. 

“Sam and Dean Winchester.” Both hunters slowly looked up as their names were mentioned, slightly narrowed eyes fixing on the billionaire. “Convicted felons and-” brown eyes turned to Dean, “-murderers. Nice.”

Dean gaped, speechless, while Sam's eyebrows furrowed. “Sons to John and Mary Winchester, both deceased,” Tony rambled on with the smallest of smug smirks on his face, the two brothers too stunned to react. “Wow, would you look at that? Here are a couple of US Wildlife service workers that look exactly like you guys. Agents Ford and Hamill.” He looked up from his phone, cocking an eyebrow. “Star Wars? Really?”

“How the hell are you doing that?” Dean cut in angrily, finally snapping out of his reverie, looking thoroughly pissed and confused before his eyes flitted to the phone in Tony's hand. “Gimme that.” 

He practically dove in for the phone but it was successfully yanked away by Stark, who let out a scoff of a laugh. “Yeah, not happening.” 

“Where did you get all that info?” Sam questioned, a suspicious edge to his tone, putting a hand on his brother's arm to stop him from lunging over the table to claw at the older man. 

Tony shrugged casually, flashing them the screen of his phone. “FBI records, criminal records. All the good stuff. Had Jarvis scan around for your face-” he nodded towards Dean, “-and your fingerprints.” He pointed his phone at Sam. “Never accept phones from strangers, Sasquatch.”

The nickname seemed to be the final straw. “Listen here, you smug bastard,” Dean growled, shaking Sam's hand off. “We are trying to help you. If you want to end up as human stew decorating walls, that's fine by me. But if you have any intentions of carrying on with doing whatever it is you do, besides being an ass, in a ghost-free zone then I suggest you cooperate.” He leaned onto the table, narrowed eyes fixing Tony with a deathly glare. “Because if you don't, I will personally throw you back into that skyscraper and hold the doors while the spirit has his sweet, sweet way with you.”

Tony made an act of thinking it over, rubbing his goatee and shifting his eyes to the dirty ceiling. Sam was alert, fully ready to calm things down if it got to that, although he himself had to admit that he was itching to smash that phone -what had he called it, Jarvis?- under the heel of his shoe. 

“Well?” Dean pushed impatiently, his eyes flitting to the approaching waitress, holding plates with burgers. His mouth started watering but he turned his attention back to Tony, raising his eyebrows to hopefully hurry up the process of getting an answer from this dick so he could enjoy his meal.

Stark hummed for a few more short moments before giving a casual shrug that made Dean's blood boil. “Fine. You have my cooperation, Sergeant Hartman.”

“Thank you,” Dean replied gruffly, the sarcasm thick, settling back into his seat. Sam relaxed, relieved that he wouldn't have to hold his brother back from breaking any noses. A moment passed in silence, save for the sound of the plates being placed on the greasy table Sam was doing his best not to touch. The older brother grinned as he picked up his burger, muttering something ridiculously endearing to his meal. Sam didn't comment since his brother seemed to have forgotten his annoyance at Tony for now and he planned to savor every moment of what was sure to be a short lasting peace. 

One bite into the burger, Dean cocked his head slightly, frowning as he stared at Stark. “Hang on, did you just make a reference to Full Metal Jacket?”

Tony just grinned, poking at his own burger before picking it up. Sam's stomach silently cried in relief when it's owner finally reached out to Dean's plate with reluctance and started nibbling on a soggy fry. Next time, they were eating someplace that at least served soup.

…...

“Home sweet motel,” Dean remarked sarcastically as the three men stepped into the lobby. The woman behind the front desk smiled warmly at him and Dean grinned back, waltzing up towards the desk. 

“Evening,” he started, lips turned into a smooth grin, but that's about as far as he got because the woman's attention had already shifted to something behind him.

“Is that Tony Stark?” she finally breathed, actual stars of admiration twinkling in her eyes. A groan of disgust escaped Dean's mouth and Sam chuckled as he pushed his brother away, regaining the lady's attention to book a room. After managing to convince her that, no, they weren't kidnappers, just old friends of Mister Stark's, they were finally handed a pair of keys. They received a fair amount of sketchy looks while they headed for their room; whether from the fact that they had Tony Stark in tow or that they were three guys renting a hotel room, Sam wasn't sure. 

When they found the room, at the end of the hall as asked for, Dean snatched they keys from his brother and opened up the door. Inside were a couple of beds, one king sized and a single. It took but a moment to do the math of three guys and two beds not matching up. Sam couldn't help it; a quiet chuckle escaped his mouth as the older brother stormed into the room, spreading his arms wide. “What the hell is this?” he asked angrily, eyebrows set with his frown.

“A hotel room. They're very common, actually,” Tony remarked dryly, stepping into the room. Dean made a face at the older man before taking a seat on the single bed, frown lines still creasing his forehead. 

“Fine. Mister superhero can share a bed with giggles over there,” he said, jerking his thumb in his brother's direction. Sam pursed his lips, trying to minimize the grin on his face. It failed. “Just keep it clean, you two.” 

Sam groaned, picking a pillow up off the couch and tossing it at his brother. “Dude, shut up. I'll just sleep on the couch.” Sam shrugged off his jacket, wincing slightly as his elbow complained, and tossed it onto the couch. 

Dean grinned back, quickly getting up and throwing himself face first onto the larger bed. “Well, then I'm getting the spacious bed,” he muttered into the pillow and Sam watched with hidden amusement as the other hunter struggled to pull off his shoes using only his toes.

Sam moved his eyes to the billionaire as he strolled leisurely over to the single bed, pulling off his suit jacket before he sat down on the edge. “So-” the younger brother started but that was about as far as he got before Tony cut in with a decisive 'no'. Before Sam could even object, Stark started speaking as he kicked off his shoes. 

“My day has been endless meetings with police officers, insurance companies and a couple of whackjobs asking about the building temperature.” A pointed stare was delivered to Sam. “But that's not all because as I leave work, I get attacked by the ghost of my former mentor before getting forced to stay at some skeezy motel with two grown men. So if it's all the same to you, big guy, I'd like something with lots of alcohol in it, I'd like to call off all my employees and then I'd like a few hours of uneasy sleep before I get bombarded with your questions?” 

A moment passed where Sam just stared at the other man, stunned, before he nodded. “Yeah, uhm... sure. Sure,” he stuttered, his attention moving to his brother. 

Dean was groaning quietly as he pushed himself up from his almost comatose position on the bed and once he'd managed to sit up, running a hand through his scruffy hair, he dug into the inside pocket of his jacket. A flask was pulled out and Sam groaned. “Dean, really? You're still carrying that thing around?”

“Shut it, Sammy,” Dean commanded with a warning stare before tossing the flask onto Tony's bed. “Now stop being a dick.” With that, Dean's feet hit the floor and he kicked off his shoes, padding into the bathroom while muttering something about 'smelling like a freaking book'. 

Sam shook his head, his own shoes joining the two pairs already discarded. Tony had uncapped the flask and taken a swig, grimacing before he tossed it back onto Dean's bed. “Your brother's taste in alcohol is humorously bad,” he remarked to Sam, his face still scrunched up in distaste. 

“I can still hear you, jackass,” Dean's shout carried through the wooden door and Stark smirked as the shower turned on. 

After a couple of minutes, Sam had located a pillow and some covers for him to have on the couch. Tony was talking quietly on his phone which struck the hunter as kind of strange since all the other conversations had been casual and typically I'm-your-boss-listen-to-me like. Even in the hushed tone he was speaking in, Sam was able to hear something about... pepper? Shaking it off, he settled onto the couch as he rummaged in his bag for his laptop. 

Once he'd started the thing up, cursing his brother as he closed the numerous pop up ads that always seemed to follow Dean's... adventures on his laptop, Sam opened up a browser. Glancing over at Tony, who was still quietly speaking on the phone, he typed in the words 'Stane' and 'Tony Stark'.

When Dean emerged from the bathroom, Sam pretty much had the jest of what had happened a few years back figured out. His brother threw himself onto the larger bed, mumbling something incomprehensible into his pillow. “What?” 

“I said,” Dean started as he pushed himself up, “any luck on our psycho ghost?”

Taking note of the way Tony briefly tensed at the mention of the spirit, Sam sighed and beckoned his brother over with a nod of his head. “I've got ears,” Dean replied flippantly, folding his hands behind his head as he laid back, and Sam rolled his eyes. After a few more wild gestures, Stark broke the silence with a “I'm going to check out the lobby.”

Once Tony had stepped out of the room, but not before shooting them both disapproving looks, Sam gave his brother a pointed look. Dean shrugged nonchalantly, patting the bed. “You are way too lazy for your own good,” Sam muttered as he pushed himself up off the couch, walking over to the beds. 

“What? I'm too good? Aww, thanks, Sammy.”

Ignoring Dean's obnoxious grin, Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, sorting through the numerous tabs he had open. “Look,” he said once he'd finally located the correct one, shoving the laptop onto his brother's stomach.

“Obadiah Stane,” Dean read aloud after he'd balanced the laptop, staring at the screen for a moment before turning his head to look at his brother. “That means nothing to me.”

“Just keep on reading, Dean,” Sam ordered, annoyance dripping from his voice. With a very melodramatic sigh, the older brother continued reading, muttering under his breath as he did. 

“Friend of Howard Stark's, yada yada, took over the company before passing away in a tragic-- how does this help, exactly?” Dean questioned and the laptop was aggressively (at least that's how it felt to Dean) ripped from his hands. 

“That man,” Sam said tensely, pointing at a photo of an old, bald man with a very unflattering beard. “That's the ghost. The one I saw in the elevator. The one that wants Stark's guts spread all over.”

Realization seemed to dawn on the older brother, who pursed his lips. “So the tragic accident...”

“Not an accident. Or at least, that's what I'm thinking.”

“Think Stark knows what happens?” Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow. Sam closed the laptop, standing up from the bed which creaked at the change of weight. 

“I know he knows what happened.”

“Alright,” Dean breathed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up straight with a sigh. “Let's go grill the man for some info.”

“Grill? Really?”

Both heads turned to the door, eyes landing on Tony where he stood in the doorway. “You could always just ask nicely. A 'please' would help.”

The door closed and Stark strolled inside, pulling out the desk chair and sitting down. “How long were you standing there?” Sam asked cautiously, gently putting his laptop onto the single bed. 

Tony shrugged. “Long enough. Now...” His arms crossed, his face went stoic and he rolled his neck before sighing. “What do you nut jobs need to know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And things are moving along. Maybe. Possibly. We'll see. Thanks for any and all kudos I'm getting and if you're still reading this, I hope this'll continue to be worthy of your time. Until my next, most likely later than expected, update. Ciao~ 
> 
> By the way, just in case anyone's interested in some Supernatural/Avengers/Sherlock goodness, my tumblr account is casdammitstark. Just an FYI... c:


	4. Please Do Not Blaspheme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long wait, you get a short chapter. Aren't you just loving me right now? Anyway, this is a chapter that moves the plot forward and it took me forever to decided on where I wanted the plot to move. This is the direction I'm taking it in and I'm taking some artistic license with... well, everything so if something doesn't make sense, just put it down to my bending the rules. Enjoy...

Sam wasn't sure when exactly this had turned into a full blown screaming match. He also wasn't sure how he'd found himself holding back an enraged Dean while Tony continued to taunt him. “Just let me at him, Sammy. One punch,” Dean growled and Stark, for his part, looked very amused.

“Yeah, Sammy, let the boy at me,” Tony mocked, spreading his arms wide and Dean jerked in Sam's grip.

“Dean, just think this thr-”

“Sam, I swear to god, if you don't let me go, I'm smashing your precious laptop,” Dean threatened, eyes aflame. Tony looked fairly disinterested in the brotherly spat, examining the far wall with great interest. Nevertheless, the threat worked and Dean might as well have been scalding hot iron from how fast Sam let go of him.

Dean was on the move, stalking up to Tony. He barely managed to twist his hands into the older man's collar when Stark reacted, bringing his hands up between Dean's arms and twisting them down. Sam went bug eyed as Dean was twisted down and into the ground in a flash.

An impressive string of profanities left Dean's mouth but his groan of complaint cut them off. Sam realized it must have been brought on by the way Tony was twisting his brother's arm. 

Dean was trapped in quite the predicament, lying face down on the ground with one hand forcefully twisted up behind his back. Tony looked quite content where he rested on knee on top of Dean's back, holding the arm up with what seemed like ease.

“Are you still going at me?” Tony taunted and Sam was stuck between wanting to help his brother and laughing at how ridiculous he looked with half of his face pressed into the dirty motel room's carpet. He settled for the latter, an unattractive snort slipping past his mouth before he covered it with his hand.

“Sammy,” Dean said slowly, the warning clear in his voice. “Remember the rakshasa hunt back in Vermont?”

Sam's eyes widened. He'd rubbed his face raw day after day but the stupid ink just hadn't come off. He hadn't talked to Dean for days after that. “Alright, Tony, I think he's had enough.”

“Enough? You're not enjoying yourself, big boy?” Tony asked Dean, who let out a growl in return. 

“You are such a caveman,” Stark mocked before he let go of Dean's arm and straightened out. He brushed off his pants, as if the mere thought of the material having touched Dean was unbearable.

Sam watched as his brother scrambled to stand up, looking thoroughly humiliated. “Get out,” he seethed and Sam was thankful that the look in Dean's eyes wasn't directed at him. 

Tony put a hand to his heart, a mock look of hurt flashing across his face. “I thought what we had was special.” The hurt quickly morphed into a bored look and Tony snatched his jacket up off the bed. “But I'd hate to be a bother so I'll leave you two to it.”

Surprisingly, Dean's stare didn't manage to melt through Stark as he headed for the door and Sam's hopeless look had seemingly no effect on his brother. “Dean, if you throw him out, he's as good as dead,” Sam muttered as Tony opened up the door.

“One can only hope,” Dean gritted back. Stark turned around and offered the pair a mock salute. 

“It's been swell, guys. Tell you what. Call my PA and she'll schedule a lovely lunch that I'll lie about showing up to,” Tony said smugly as he slipped his arms into the suit jacket. Dean offered a laugh so dry that the Sahara could have been a rainforest in comparison and the door to the motel room slammed shut.

Tension seeped out of Dean's muscles until he turned to face his brother. “What?” he groaned when he noticed the way Sam's eyebrows were cocked; the displeased purse of his lips; the crossed arms. Oh yeah, he was giving Dean a major bitch face.

“Oh, you know he deserved it,” Dean said dismissively, waving off Sam and moving to sit down on the bed.

“Dean,” Sam warned and Dean rolled his eyes. He'd have to remember how exactly Sam had developed that inexplicably annoying tone of voice. 

“What?” Dean groaned once again, drawing out the single syllable, not caring in the slightest that he was being childish. At least that's what Sam assumed, seeing as Dean never seemed phased by his own petulant temper tantrums.

“You know what.” Sam's voice was stern and Dean wondered when exactly his brother had adapted to the scolding mother part.

“He was being a pain!” Dean defended himself but judging by Sam's continued look of utter disappointment, his brother didn't care about the fact that Stark had been acting like a complete assbutt.

With a very loud, very drawn out sigh that made Sam question how exactly Dean was supposed to be older than him, Dean rolled over and got up from the bed. “Fine. I'll go get the son of a bitch but then I get to go out for a beer while you wrap this up,” Dean bargained as he tugged on his boots.

“Only if you apologize to him,” Sam tried hopefully but as was to be expected, Dean let out a bark of a laugh before muttering something about how Sam should abandon his hunter lifestyle to pursue a career as a comedian.

After a whole lot of ushering and a few shoves, Sam finally managed to push Dean on his way out the door. “You owe me one, Sammy,” Dean called over his shoulder, earning an offended scoff from his brother.

“I do not owe you one,” Sam argued and Dean just laughed. He turned to go, walking straight into a 5 foot 9, trench coated figure. Startled, Dean jumped back and glared when he heard Sam's chuckles from inside the room. 

“For the love of god, Cas, you have to stop that,” Dean gritted out, trying to calm his pounding heart.

“My apologies, Dean. And please do not blaspheme.” Castiel sounded just shy of scolding and while Dean waved the angel off, he still looked slightly apologetic.

Before either of the hunters could ask Cas what was up with the sudden appearance, the angel had stepped inside and was looking around the room wildly. Dean looked at Sam questioningly and the younger brother just shrugged helplessly. “Uh, Cas-”

“Where is Anthony Stark?” Castiel cut in and Sam swore he could hear Dean's annoyance return. It was like a force of nature and Sam liked to compare it to a tornado. Just twice as dangerous.

“You mean the pompous ass? He's gone,” Dean spat bitterly. “Why the hell do you care, anyway?”

Castiel was pacing the room, the expression on his face clearly showing that something had gone awry. “The spirit you are hunting. It should have moved on.”

A look of 'yeah, no shit, Sherlock' passed over Dean's face and Sam intervened before his brother could say something Dean-like and possibly (definitely) offend the angel. On their next day off, Sam really needed to teach Dean some manners.

“What do you mean, Cas?” Sam asked and Castiel continued to walk around, impatient, like he didn't have time for the Winchesters to not understand him.

“Remember the rising of the witnesses? One of the seals Lilith broke in order to free Lucifer?” Cas huffed out, finally turning back to face the two hunters who were both staring wide eyed at Castiel.

“It's happening again? Someone's starting up the apocalypse?” Sam asked, voice rising slightly in barely concealed panic. He had just escaped with his life the last time they managed to stuff Lucifer back in his hole. This time, he doubted they'd be that lucky.

“Not exactly.” Castiel's answer was vague and he started walking towards the door with brisk steps, trench coat billowing behind him.

“Now hang on just a minute,” Dean ordered as he stepped in to intervene with Cas' departure which earned a rather annoyed look from the angel. Dean stubbornly crossed his arms, although he knew that if the angel was determined to go, he would just flap away. He hoped his stern look would be enough to keep the angel grounded.

Castiel looked very confused at the interruption, glancing over at Sam as if asking for help. Dean refrained from slapping his forehead in a face palm. “Dean, I need to go pursue Anthony Stark.”

“Yeah, well, first I want you to tell us if we need to be expecting the goddamn devil to start the apocalypse again.” Dean's completely unamused expression must have alerted Castiel to how unsatisfying his explanation had been because the angel no longer looked to be in such a rush to leave.

“It looks like someone is trying to break the 66 seals once again but this time it's... different.” Even Castiel looked puzzled by his explanation and Sam moved closer to the pair. 

“Different how?” Sam pushed, shooting Dean a worried glance. Castiel pursed his lips in thought, as if pondering how to explain this, and he moved to sit down on the bed. His back was rigidly straight, as per usual, and his hands rested uncomfortably on top of his thighs. The two Winchesters loomed over him, trading nervous glances.

“The seals are being broken but it's not like when Lilith was breaking them. Like with the witnesses. They aren't targeting hunters but rather, they have been targeting the Avengers-”

“Woah, hang on, Cas. The Avengers? You mean the group of superheroes that saved New York last year; the ones working for SHIELD. Those Avengers?” Sam intervened enthusiastically and Castiel looked very annoyed at the interruption. Dean couldn't help but smirk at the kicked puppy dog look that settled on Sam's face as he muttered an apology.

The blue eyed, pointed stare was locked on Sam for a few brief moments, as if daring the hunter to interrupt again. When the younger Winchester kept quiet, Castiel continued. “Yes, those Avengers. Someone very powerful has started breaking the seals. His identity continues to elude me but we need to find him and stop him before he completes his mission.”

Abruptly, Castiel stood up, seemingly apathetic towards the hunters' shock. "So what now?" Dean asked in exasperation because really, they were going to have to deal with this crap _again?_

Castiel huffed in what Dean assumed was the angel equivalent of rolling your eyes. It seemed the angel was developing a bigger attitude by the day. Dean blamed Sam. Out of the two, Sammy was clearly the only option that could be having such a bad influence on Cas. His younger brother was the epitome of attitude. 

Instead of answering Dean's question, Castiel simply raised his hand and pressed two fingers to Dean's forehead before the hunter could utter a single word of protest. The two disappeared in a flutter of wings and Sam blinked.

As if realizing just what had transpired, Sam sighed in annoyance. "Oh no, don't mind me, guys. I'll just wait here," he remarked sarcastically to the vacant room, a scowl settling onto his face. He knew Dean was Cas' favorite but would it kill them to just let him tag along?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for Castiel. Yet another character I'm afraid I'll write completely out of character. Next chapter should include at least one, maybe all, of the Avengers. I'm sorry for the long wait and I'll try to updated sooner, as soon as test week is done!


	5. Two Sides of the Same Coin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha I think it's been like two years since the last update fml. So… hey. Completely pushed this off my schedule but a review reminded me that I already had like 2000 words written up for this chapter so I added some more shitty writing and voila?

**_Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_ **

This was insane. No, correction; _they_ were insane. Tony Stark had seen a lot of weird crap during his lifetime but two ghost hunting brothers was a little out of his comfort zone.

He was cool with the fact that one of his closest friends turned into an enormous, green rage monster. He'd learned how to come to terms with waking up to a super soldier hanging from the ceiling, doing chin ups that had to be illegal. He could even accept the fact that once a week, he sat through a meeting with a 6 foot 3 demi god that had an almost sickening obsession with pop tarts. But ghosts? Yeah, no.

For someone who always tended to draw a lot of attention to himself, Tony was managing to walk down the street without too much of a hazzle. That was, until he felt a vice-like grip on his upper arm and suddenly found himself staring straight into a pair of blue eyes. His own orbs widened and before he even had a chance to react or ponder on how exactly this person had appeared so suddenly in front of him, Tony was suddenly being dragged along back towards the motel. A new hand snatched Tony’s other arm, drawing an indignant huff from the billionaire.

Glancing to the side, he saw Mister Anger Issues. Great. On his other side, there was a disheveled looking fellow wearing what had to be the tackiest trench coat Tony had laid his eyes on in a while. Taking that guy shopping for some new clothes would probably count as charity.

“Already back for more, sweetheart?” Tony asked mockingly to Dean, who didn't even spare him a glance. The other man, however, was now staring at Tony with a confused expression on his face. Sort of like the vacant look Thor wore when confronted with technology.

“Ignore him, Cas,” Dean spoke up and Scruffy's gaze snapped back up and away from Tony.

“So, what? Is this a kidnapping?” Tony asked when the two men didn't seem keen on explain the situation to him in the near future.

The trench coated one looked back over at Tony before his eyes flitted to Dean. “Anthony Stark, we believe you are in grav-”

“Woah, back up there, Rumbly,” Tony cut in and the man's blue eyes narrowed slightly, whether from confusion or annoyance, Tony didn't know nor particularly care about. “Tony works just fine.”

“Anthony-” Tony gritted his teeth but felt a warning squeeze on his upper arm from Dean so he bit his tongue. For now. “Your life, as well as your teammates', are in grave danger. As is the rest of the world.”

He couldn't help it, he really couldn't. Tony scoffed. “Yeah, danger actually came with the job description. Shocking, I know, but I'd already signed the contract when I noticed the fine print. And the whole 'world being in danger' thing? Been there, done that. It's what I like to call a slow weekend.”

They three of them abruptly stopped and Tony jerked to a halt. “Cut it with the attitude, you ass,” Dean snapped and Tony quirked an eyebrow.

“Temper.”

With a huff, Dean shoved him away which gave Tony the perfect opportunity to escape from these nutjobs. He screwed up his body to deliver an expert (those lessons with Tasha hadn't been for nothing) right hook to the other man's jaw. The only downside was that Tony might as well have been punching a brick wall.

His face screwed up in pain and he swore while Dean chuckled. “What is it with you humans and your need to throw punches at me?” scruffy hair asked, actually sounding offended. He was the one who had just rammed his fist into freaking diamond hard surface and the other guy was offended? Tony felt his arm being gripped by Dean once again and rolled his eyes. Well, that had gone just as smoothly as he'd planned.

“It's called human nature, Cas. Of course, in Mister Stark's case, it's just idiotic nature.” The bastard was grinning and Tony opened his mouth to retort when suddenly, he felt his stomach lurch as the sound of something flapping could be heard. Almost like... wings.

Tony's eyes opened -strange, he didn't even recall closing them- and holy crap, he was back at the motel room. “It's about time, you two.”

“Oh, quit your whining, Sammy. We have goatee man. Now we just need him to shut up for a minute so Cas can explain what's going on.” Tony groaned quietly, feeling a headache building up at his temples.

“So what, you can teleport? Time travel? Did you use a worm hole?” Tony shot out guess after guess at Scruffy –or Cas as he’d been referred to – and Dean smirked.

“No, I flew us here,” Cas spoke up, his tone of voice suggesting that flying had been the obvious answer, and Tony crossed his arms over his chest despite his aching hand's protests.

“Right. You flew us here with the wings you so clearly have. That was my second guess, right after 'you're actually Santa Clause and can bend space and time,'” Tony remarked with a sarcastic quirk of his eyebrow and Cas cocked his head to the side. Tony resisted the urge to throw a water bottle or something just to see if he'd go fetch because the resemblance to a confused golden retriever was astonishing.

“He reminds me of you, Dean,” Cas finally said and Sasquatch burst into laughter, much to Dean's chagrin.

Dean grumbled something unintelligent under his breath. “Just get on with it, Cas, so we can nip this thing in the bud,” he added for the whole room to hear.

“I don't know if you're deliberately trying to be vague as part of some mysterious persona act you have going on -which, I'm totally not going to judge, to each his own- but it would be much appreciated if you could explain to me what exactly 'this' is. Just whenever you feel like you have the time,” Tony cut in, his tone irritatingly casual to Dean's ears.

Tony however, was finding the greatest amusement in this guy's temper. It was almost as fun as trying to provoke Bruce on a slow day. Or -god forbid he'd try that again- Tasha.

“Alright, that's it. I'm getting the duct tape.” Dean started rummaging around in his bag.

“Kinky. But I feel you should at least buy me a drink first. I'll take something strong, no ice.”

“Should I go get him an alcoholic beverage?”

“Dammit- No, Cas, you're not getting him a- Sammy, I swear to god if you don't stop laughing, I'm shaving off your hair.”

“He's a bit tense, isn't he?”

“Shut up, Stark!”

**_Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii_ **

“So, the end of the world?”

“Yes.”

“And me and my team are smack dab in the middle of it?”

“Bingo.”

“Yeah... I'm not buying it.”

Dean sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This man was unbelievable. It was like reasoning with a goldfish, except the damn fish didn’t talk back. “Point is, someone's out to kill your smug ass –and I don't blame them – but in the process, they're going to start the apocalypse. Again.”

“Right. And who exactly is behind this diabolical plan?” Tony questioned and Sam shrugged.

“No clue. We were actually hoping you would know,” Sam tried, shooting his brother a look that said 'let me do the talking now before you pop every vein in your head.' Or at least, that's how Sam hoped the look came across. Dean just looked at it and saw yet another bitch face.

Tony let out a short laugh and looked between the three other men in the room. “Sasquatch, there are a lot of people that would give all they had to dance on my grave-”

“Me being one of them.”

“-so narrowing it down would be like finding a needle in a stack of needles while the whole thing was on fire,” Tony continued on despite Dean's interruption, which had only earned the older Winchester a glare from Sam. “Turns out, people don't like you all that much after you royally kick their ass and throw them in jail.”

“It's completely rational to harbor feelings of anger towards someone who has foiled your plans and sentenced you to a life within prison walls...” Castiel trailed off when he noticed all three pairs of eyes staring at him, Tony's being the most disbelieving. “He was using sarcasm,” Castiel deduced solemnly. The room stooped into silence. Of course, no one was surprised when Tony was the one to break it.

“Have you been keeping this guy holed up in a cave?” he finally asked, still staring at Cas who, of course, stared back. Sam figured that as well as teaching his brother manners, he'd have to teach the angel about how long it was appropriate to stare at someone before it bordered on completely psychotic. A border Castiel so often crossed with Dean.

Dean couldn't help but chuckle, patting Cas' shoulder as he walked past him. “Try heaven.”

The sudden short, snippy bark of laughter from Tony caught the other three males off guard. The billionaire looked fairly amused, right up until he realized that he was the only one. “You're serious? You mean to tell me that the man wearing that dirty trench coat is an angel of the lord? You guys really are crazy.”

Castiel looked down at his usual ensemble and frowned. Dean frowned with him because no one was allowed to offend the trench coat. Except for him. And maybe Sam on occasion but definitely not this pompous asshole.

“This is merely a vessel-” Castiel started but Tony cut him off.

“Save it, Clarence. Ghosts, the apocalypse, angels of the lord… Yeah, I think we've pretty much covered every aspect of 'stuff that will keep my laughing for at least ten years' so I'm going to bail. I’m pretty sure I can snatch a taxi just a few blocks down-” Tony stopped talking when Cas suddenly stepped into his path of departure, successfully blocking him.

The lights in the room flickered and for a brief moment of panic, Tony thought Stane was back. But no, this was far from it.

With the room now dark, a car's headlights illuminated the room and allowed Tony to see a clear silhouette of very huge, very feathery and oh-so-very angelic wings protruding from Cas’ back. Well, fuck.

The lights flickered on again and Tony straightened the lapels of his shirt before sitting down. His phone was pulled out and Dean grinned as he heard Stark order his phone to dial ‘the Big Guy.’ Finally, some co-operation.

“Good job, Cas,” Dean praised, patting the angel on the back. “It'll do the bastard some good to have the fear of God put into him.” Sam wasn’t surprised by the pleased look that flashed across the angel’s face.

**_Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica_ **

“Who did you say was going to meet us here, again?” Sam questioned, eyes on his wristwatch. They had been loitering at this bar now for more than an hour, waiting for the people Tony had gotten in touch with. Dean didn’t seem to have much of a problem with their current setting. Neither did Tony.

“Just a few of my colleagues,” Tony replied, disinterest coloring his words as he swirled the gin and tonic in his glass. Sam decided that more questions weren’t worth the trouble, pushing away the now flat beer he had no desire to drink. He felt just about as tense as Castiel looked, sitting on the stool next to Dean, warily scanning the environment. Every time someone entered the bar, the angel’s eyes narrowed and his posture grew even more rigid. Dean, of course, noticed every change in Castiel’s demeanor and followed the suspicious gaze.

Sam shook his head, stuck in his seat between Dean and Tony, two sides of the same arrogant and sarcastic coin. His brother suddenly turned his whole body in his seat, prompting Sam to immediately reach for the knife on the inside of his jacket. However, once he spotted what had caught Dean’s attention, Sam’s eyes rolled.

“Seriously, Dean? There are more important things than – and he’s off…” Sam sighed, watching Castiel watch his brother saunter off towards the petite redhead that had just entered the bar. He vaguely registered Tony’s amused snort before witnessing his brother – for the second time that evening – being forced towards the ground. The technique was very similar to the one Tony had used…

Castiel had quickly risen from his stool upon seeing Dean’s face mushed against the ground, but intervening became unnecessary when a man dressed in dark placed a hand on the redhead’s shoulder, a small smirk on his face. Dean scrambled to his feet once his arm was no longer locked in a death grip, rubbing at his sore forearm with a massive frown.

Before either Sam or Castiel could react, Tony had strolled past them towards the couple. Dean joined his trio, the side of his face red from the constant contact with the ground. Sam couldn’t _not_ find it amusing. “Why am I not surprised that these are his colleagues…” Dean muttered, still rubbing at his arm.

Sam had to admit, he was surprised that _this_ was the backup Tony had called for. A very short – and admittedly hot – redhead and what looked like her boyfriend. Honestly, he’d been expecting… well, Thor or Captain America. But maybe that was just because he wanted to see _Thor_ and _Captain America_.

From the corner of his eye he noticed Cas pressing a hand to Dean’s arm, most likely healing the minor sprain. Sam averted his gaze when his brother smiled softly. In a way, the smile felt private.

The inner monologue was cut short when Tony suddenly headed for the door, accompanied by his friends, which snapped the trio into motion. Dean was the first to burst through the door, only to find that Tony was standing calmly outside. However, he now had three people surrounding him instead of the previous two.

The new arrival looked nervous, watching the Winchesters with wary curiosity. Still, Dean’s attention was solely focused on the billionaire. It took Tony a few seconds to actually respond to the older Winhester’s angry glare, at which point he smiled.

“Oh, right. I totally forgot you were in there,” he explained, continuing before Dean could rain hellfire over him (even though the man’s rants were amusing). “We came out to greet our new arrival. Bruce, meet the Winchesters and their pet angel. Dream team, meet Bruce Banner.” Tony gestured to the nervous man. “And you’ve already met Natasha and Clint.”

The violent lady remained passive while her constantly amused partner gave a small wave. Dean’s returning smile oozed sarcasm.

“Great. We’ve got a real good social event going here but I don’t really see what these people are –“

“Dean…”

“What, Cas?”

“That one’s not entirely human.”

**_Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly idek. just... yeah. Goddammit, I’m rusty at this. The next chapter will make more sense, I promise. But yeeaa, Bruce, Tasha and Clint have joined the party. The rest will be arriving soon and a plot will form whaaat. Feel free to leave a review so I don’t forget about this for like four years again ahem…


	6. Captain Romcom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bet you thought you'd seen the last of me!!1!! well too bad, im back. and it’s short but that’s okay because I’m lazy. Hope it’s everything you wanted in another update. also i didn't proofread it well because it's almost christmas ahem

_**Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus** _

Natasha Romanoff was nothing if not used to sleazy men at bars thinking they were all that, sauntering over with their cheesy pickup lines and reeking of desperation, thinking that she had nothing better to do than suffer through their fruitless advances. Of course, what they didn’t know (or refused to acknowledge) was that yes, she had much better things to do and no, she definitely was not interested in accepting their drinks.

Tonight, she was more than ever not in the mood for all of this macho male bullshit.

Her quiet evening in had been sabotaged by the sudden appearance of Clint outside her door which, normally, wouldn’t have been too much of an issue. The issue was the fact that Clint was holding up his phone with a 911 message from –who else – Tony Stark. And thus her evening was sufficiently ruined.

Now, while she usually had no problem ignoring men like the leather-jacketed cliché making his way over, Natasha was currently in a bad mood. This meant that as soon as the guy grinned and opened his mouth to speak, she successfully shut him up by pinning him to the ground.

A ruffled looking man at the bar seemed startled by the sudden attack, which only prompted Natasha to further twist the arm in her grip. And then she noticed Stark and he was wearing his stupid smirk which only irked her further. She probably would have snapped this guy’s arm on accident if it hadn’t been for the familiar weight of a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, she met Clint’s (slightly amused) gaze and immediately let go of the stranger.

“I see you’ve met my new friends.” Tony had sauntered his way over, wearing his usual smug expression but for Natasha, it was easy to see how distraught he really was. There were faint bags under his bloodshot eyes and the nice suit looked ruffled, as well as his hair.

“You look like shit,” Clint cut in before Natasha had a chance to say… well, exactly what Clint had said. Unfazed, Tony shrugged and instantly begun to ignore them in favor of looking at his phone. A genuine smile spread across his lips.

“Oh, goodie. Bruce is here.”

Reluctantly, Natasha followed Stark to the door, well aware of the three men near the bar, staring them down. These were the ‘friends’ Tony had mentioned? They didn’t exactly look like much.

Outside, Bruce was indeed waiting, fidgeting and trying his best not to get bumped into by rude New Yorkers. Tony greeted him happily while the two assassins were on standby but the heartwarming reunion didn’t last long.

The leather-jacket burst through the door, followed by his two friends. She wasn’t exactly surprised when mister Big Shot started shooting daggers at Stark with his eyes, seeing as that was a fairly common reaction to the billionaire’s attitude. The words ‘pet angel’ stood out from Tony’s otherwise useless introduction but before any questions could be asked, a single statement made the air go still around the group.

“That one’s not entirely human.”

 _Well,_ Natasha thought. _At least this won’t be boring._

_**Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii** _

Castiel had been through a lot with the Winchester brothers and over time, Dean had learned to trust his angel companion’s instincts. Not when it came to everything, of course (human subjects were still very iffy), but Cas showing distrust in someone was enough reason for the hunter to pull out his gun. Just in case.

Now, what was the common reaction to someone pulling out a gun? Oh, right. Shit hit the fan at a very high velocity.

Sam sort of freaked out, grabbing at Dean’s arm to try and get him to lower his weapon but the older Winchester didn’t budge. However, in a split second, his brother’s hand was gone and Dean hadn’t even begun to shake it off himself. Mister Dark and Smirky had gone full on serious-business, shoving Sam out of the way and up against the nearest wall (the size difference would have made it hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that it made Dean want to shoot the guy). Dean kept his gun trained on the ‘entirely not human’ one (who, now that Dean thought about it, just looked amused by the gun pointed at his face). Before he could even begin to question the guy, Dean was on the ground for the third freaking time this evening. What the hell.

“Don’t be stupid,” the redhead – Natasha – said condescendingly from where she was forcing him into the street and Dean grumbled in return. This was really starting to put a dent in his ego. At this point, a small crowd was beginning to form, wondering what all the commotion was. Dean vaguely registered Tony sprouting some lie about overly excited fans and bodyguards but he was more focused on the fact that Castiel was getting involved.

The angel placed a firm hand on her shoulder, a very polite way of saying ‘get off my friend or I royally kick your ass’. At least, that’s how it came across to Dean. Natasha, however, didn’t look like she’d received the same message.

At first, she looked almost offended that this scrawny looking guy thought he stood a chance and Dean couldn’t help but smirk. She had no idea, did she? When her attempt to twist Cas’ arm went about as well as one would expect when dealing with an angel, Dean’s smirk turned into a full blown grin. Cas’ arm didn’t budge, obviously, and Castiel shot her a warning look.

The ‘glare of death’ (which honestly just amused Dean more often than not) seemed enough incentive for Clint, though, as Castiel was suddenly tackled from the side. Natasha ended up following the duo to the ground, seeing as Cas was still hanging onto her.

With a full out brawl starting, the crowd around them expanded, people starting to hoot and cheer the second the first punch landed. Or hypothetically landed, seeing as Castiel showed no reaction to Clint’s straight punch to his jaw. Dean scrambled to his feet with Sam’s help since Natasha was currently trying to release her friend from Castiel’s vice grip.

“I don’t think Stark was joking about the angel,” Clint observantly informed them right before he was tossed into the crowd, hitting the asphalt with a thud. The crowd, moments away from starting up a middle school ‘fight’ chant, had parted, opening up like a gate to avoid getting hit, making way for one more observer to the showdown. The new arrival strutted straight into the middle of the fight (it wasn’t exactly a fight per say but more so Cas being confused by the attacks and lashing back, Tony trying and failing to get the crowd to disperse and the Bruce guy had at some point backed away from all the commotion) and prevented Natasha from pulling out the weapon she so clearly was about to bring up. Not that they would have done shit to Cas but still, appreciated.

“That’s enough. Let’s take this someplace else, shall we?”

Clint had returned, dusting off his jacket, frowning deeply at Castiel which shamelessly amused Dean.

The blonde arrival looked like he’d just stepped out of a lame 20s romcom in his brown leather jacket and with that parted hair and Dean scoffed as he leaned closer to Sam. “Who the hell is – Sam?”

Sam was staring at the stranger, looking just about as star struck as when they’d snuck into the pound while their dad had been on one of his hunts. “Dean,” he gritted out through clenched teeth and Dean honestly couldn’t believe that they were related. “That’s Captain America.”

What? Oh… Until the day he’d die, Dean would never admit to it, but he couldn’t help but feel a little (read: a lot) star struck. This guy was like the first authentic superhero and yeah, it was kinda cool. For someone trying to pull off that hairstyle. Castiel did not seem as impressed as he sauntered back to his humans, frowning deeply. 

The brothers’ marveling was cut short when Captain romcom begun to usher everyone off the street, camera phones snapping as people marveled at the random assembly of Avengers and the guy who had been preparing to kick their ass but the angel seemed less than pleased with the attention. Dean was actually curious to see if Cas could take all of them on. 

Despite the group of onlookers having finally dispersed, people were still paying way too much attention for any conversations to be had. Mister America seemed to realize that as well, looking at his companions with worry and, Dean noticed with amusement, saving a particularly irritated look for Stark. His amusement didn’t last long, interrupted by the sadly familiar sensation of a gun pressing into his back. "Don't try anything." Natasha sounded bored, which only served to rile Dean up. But judging from the sour look on Sam’s face, his brother was in the same dilemma. Oh, well. 

“Don’t,” Dean ordered gruffly once he noticed Cas getting ready to throw around more assassins, giving him a reassuring nod. They didn’t need another fight breaking out, despite Dean’s itching need to throw a few punches at the people who kept dropping him to the ground. More fighting would be counterproductive and it hardly seemed fair with an actual superhero at the scene. Besides, Thing 1 and Thing 2 wouldn’t shoot them. Their Captain wouldn’t allow it. Or so he hoped.

“Let’s move.”

**_Omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii_ **

What happens when you put an angel, two self-absorbed humans, a serum enhanced soldier, two assassins and a potential Hulk in the same room? For starters, you get a very frustrated Sam Winchester, standing next to the aforementioned potential Hulk, shaking his head. You also had a whole lot of fighting.

After cramming into a large taxi, which was as uncomfortable as it sounded, the group of unlikely alleys had arrived at Stark Tower. And then Natasha had ‘accidentally’ almost shot Dean, or so the older Winchester claimed, despite the bullet not even having grazed him. "If I wanted to kill him, he'd be dead by now."

Sam hadn’t been keeping track of time but the shouting match had been going on for at least ten minutes now. All weapons had been removed by Steve a.k.a. Captain America (Sam was still sort of swooning) but any attempts at calming the bickering between Tony and Dean and Natasha and Clint were spoiled every time one of the four decided to once more open their mouth. 

“I knew redheads had a temper…” was the latest in line of smart things uttered by his brother, which had immediately resulted in another round of intense arguing and almost-punches being thrown. There were some threats about arrows and eye sockets being made but it was all lost in the jumble of angry shouting. Sam honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if the end of the world had simply decided to occur while these great superheroes argued hopelessly with Dean Winchester. Yup, that actually sounded just about right.

“Enough!”

Every last person in the room cringed at the booming voice. Sam glanced up just in time to see his brother being manhandled into sitting down by Castiel, who had by some literal miracle of God managed to bring about silence.

“We are dealing with a very grave situation which could possibly result in the destruction of all mankind and you are bickering like children,” Cas scolded, his voice no longer the inhuman echo of a godly creature but merely an angry rasp. It was still enough to hold everyone's attention. A scathing glare was delivered in Dean’s direction when the older Winchester assumed he was allowed to open his mouth to retort, and against all odds, Dean actually shut up. Sam was pretty amazed.

Steve seemed more than pleased with the welcomed silence and the two assassins slumped back onto one of the couches upon their Captain’s stern look. Sam glanced at the man standing by his side, dwarfed by his own hulking frame, and saw an amused glint in his eyes. He could only guess this was a regular occurrence in the tower. Why wouldn’t it be, with Stark living there. It was hard enough dealing with just Dean on a good day, he couldn't imagine throwing more people into the mix. 

“Thank you…”

“Castiel,” came the curt reply, and Steve nodded, taking his place next to Cas at the front of the room – or as close as he dared, it seemed. For someone who lived with a man straight from Norse mythology, Steve seemed awfully wary of the small, trench coated angel.

Finally daring to venture into the warzone, Sam took a seat next to his brother, whose arms were stubbornly crossed over his chest. He realized that the green eyes were narrowed at the assassins sitting opposite, whispering amongst themselves.

“Sam, Dean…”

Two heads snapped up towards the angel, looking much graver than usual.  It could mean nothing good. Even Bruce, from his place in the corner, seemed to be paying close attention. Tony still just looked bored. 

“I have reason to believe someone is attempting to once again break 66 seals, freeing Lucifer in the process.”

“ _Seriously?_ ”

"Shut up, Stark."

**_Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s short but I like cliffhangers and you know, fuck it, it’s been months. So… there are like 500+ seals, why the fuck shouldn’t Lucifer come back, I mean come on guys? Right? I mean, that… totally makes… sense… Thor’s probably appearing in the next chapter! (the seals are not the main focus however, just a plot device and it's way late rn, im shutting up). Comment your criticisms and whatnot xox


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